


What Are You Made Of?

by PastelMess



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Early Days, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Van Days, and I guess a little bit of, cute fluffy stuff, like late 2011, rab era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11349933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelMess/pseuds/PastelMess
Summary: “What are you afraid of?”The two of them are pulled over somewhere in the Arizona desert, their backs against the windshield of the van.





	What Are You Made Of?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I've been so emotional lately but I have been every time I think about the success this band has had in such a short amount of time. Something that's always frustrated me is the fact that I've never been old enough to watch my favorite bands grow, to attend concerts when they played small venues and see them selling out arenas later. The best thing about Twenty One Pilots though, is that I've gotten to do that with them. I've gotten to see them open for bands, for people around me to not know who they are, and now I'm getting to see them play friggin' ARENAS. It's such an incredible thing to know that their hard work is being shown to the world. 
> 
> You can't put a ceiling on your dreams. Dream big, shoot for space, and don't let anyone tell you that your dreams are stupid. They aren't. You can do it. <3

“What are you afraid of?”

The two of them are pulled over somewhere in the Arizona desert, their backs against the windshield of the van. It’s late at night; stars shine above them and the occasional zip of a car on the highway can be heard. They’re playing a festival tomorrow night; they have the smallest stage and expect a small amount of people, but the thrill of playing outside of Ohio is enough for them.

Mark and Michael couldn’t come this time. The two of them had actual jobs, jobs that provided stable income so they couldn’t just leave to drive to a festival in Arizona. It’s okay though. Tyler and Josh, they understood. They knew this band was a huge risk when they gave up everything for it.

Tyler turns towards Josh and looks at him intensely. “What am I afraid of?” he repeats. Josh nods.

“Yeah.”

With a sigh, Tyler turns back to look at the stars. “I guess I’m afraid of all of this,” his gestures around them, to the van and the trailer holding their stuff, “being for nothing. That we never get a following outside of Ohio.”

“Hmm,” replies Josh. Tyler looks back over at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just deep is all. I was gonna say the Kool-Aid man but now that sounds stupid.” Tyler rolls his eyes and playfully punches his bandmate who bursts into laughter.

“You are such a dork.”

“I don’t think that’s anything to be afraid of,” Josh says softly. His crosses his arms and looks up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?”

Tyler squints. “I don’t know anything about constellations. What isn’t anything to be afraid of? The Kool-Aid man? Because yeah, that’s a pretty dumb thing to be scared of.”

“No, about all of this being for nothing. It won’t be for nothing. You know how I know that?”

“How?”

“For a number of reasons. One, you are an attractive, young man,” Tyler blushes as Josh continues. “Two, you are wickedly talented. Look at all of these songs you’ve written at such a young age. It’s hard to write good stuff, you know? Especially stuff that’s from the heart and isn’t artificial.”

“My stuff will never get radio play,” Tyler says.

“It doesn’t need radio play. The music we like never gets radio play and it still does okay. And the day you write something for the sole purpose of radio play is the day I kick you out of the band. No, don’t laugh, I’m serious. I’ll be the new lead singer. I’ll become twenty one pilots and you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

Tyler hides his giggles behind his hands. “Are you gonna write stuff too?”

“Nah, I’ll just steal your stuff.” Josh grins. “It’s not hard to find a new drummer, you know. You could call yourself twenty two pilots and confuse everyone.”

“I’ll call myself ten and a half pilots since we broke up.”

“Even more confusing. I love it.” his grins grows bigger. “I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, number three. You are a hell of a dude. The first time I saw you perform, I knew I had to be in this band with you. I was determined to weasel my way into this band.”

“I’m glad you did, especially after Nick left.”

“And you’ve made me a much better performer. Being around you puts a certain sense of purpose into the atmosphere. People start thinking about who they are and what they want to do with their lives. When you speak, people listen.”

“They don’t,” Tyler started to argue, but Josh cut him off.

“Are you trying to deny yourself a compliment, Joseph? Stop being so cynical.”

Tyler blushes again. “Sorry. You know I’m a pessimist.” He looks up to catch Josh’s gaze. The wind picks up around them slightly, Josh’s dark, curly hair blowing across his forehead. Tyler’s gaze falls back to his hands where he begins playing with the rubber band around his wrist. Josh has never asked why it’s there.

He knows why.

“If it makes you feel any better, you are certainly the most optimistic pessimist I’ve ever met.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow and looks back over at him. “Does that make you the most pessimistic optimist  _ I’ve _ ever met?”

Josh shrugs. “That sounds about right. We balance each other out. It’s fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“Ouch,” replies Josh jokingly. His fingers brush across the inside of Tyler’s wrist, feather light. Tyler suddenly craves Josh’s touch and finds himself looking at his bandmate once more. 

“I’m not saying I’m not glad we met, because I am. You’re my best friend.”

“Damn right I am.” Josh smiles. Tyler finds himself blushing again. Maybe his cheeks will be permanently red from now on. “And I’m telling you, Tyler Joseph, that one day, you and I, we’re going to be playing arenas.”

“Nope,” Tyler starts to argue. Josh shushes him obnoxiously.

“You can’t put a ceiling on your dreams.”

“I can start off by being a bit more realistic.”

“Every dream is realistic. I want to jump out of a plane without a parachute and survive. I want to wrestle an alligator. I want to spend an entire day with Gerard Way. I want to write and produce my own comedy series. How absurd do those ideas sound, on a scale of one to ten?”

“An eleven,” Tyler says.

“Exactly. Playing arenas sounds pretty legit now, huh?”

“I think we should start slow. Maybe like, playing the Newport or something. The biggest venue we’ve played is The Basement and that only holds three hundred people and we didn’t even sell out all those tickets--”

“Tyler, when you dream small, your dreams will always stay small. You have to dream big because you have a big personality and talent and extraordinary ways of getting people to watch you. So we dream big. We tell people we’re going to play arenas someday. We act like we  _ know _ we’re going to play arenas someday. I will pretend that the idea of playing to thousands of people doesn’t make me want to throw up and I will pretend that I am scary and intimidating instead of being afraid to talk to people.”

Tyler sighs. “Josh--”

“Picture this. It’s the year 2017. We’ve sold out the Schott.”

“Impossible,” Tyler scoffs. Josh touches the inside of his wrist again.

“Not impossible because we just did it. And you’re standing up there, with a million girls screaming they love you--”

“I want a billion girls to scream they love me.”

“That’s a little unrealistic, Tyler.” Josh sits up, suddenly more into this daydream. “Anyways, a million girls, wanting to see us play. There’s other people there too. And kids. And parents. And maybe a couple dogs. All cheering for us. You’re up there, smiling, playing this gorgeous, sleek white piano like Elton John. I’ve got a drumset that cost more than a college education. And I’m like, totally badass and not afraid of people.”

“As you are,” Tyler nods.

“We’re on like, our sixth album. And everyone is so pumped. And we look at each other and share this moment. We did it.”

“Sounds really impossible.”

“Stop being so cynical,” repeats Josh teasingly. “Oh! One day, we’ll be on SNL. And the Tonight Show. And we’ll get to headline Lollapalooza, and Coachella--.”

“Really think our first goal should be selling out the Newport--”

“I will poke your eyes out,” Josh threatens, still grinning. He reaches out and grabs Tyler by the shoulders. “Do  _ not, _ under any circumstances, put a ceiling on your dreams, you hear me? The sky's the limit. You know what, no! You will go into friggin’ space.”

“You think so?”

“I  _ know  _ so. You are the most creative, talented, smart person I’ve ever met. And I met Mark Hoppus in a dream once.” Josh’s grip on Tyler’s shoulders tighten. “One day, you are going to meet someone who changes your entire life. One day, you are going to fall in love with someone who sees galaxies in your eyes and hears music in your heartbeats.”

“What about the other way around?” asks Tyler, his voice nothing but a breathy whisper. Josh stares at him, studies him, cars rumbling in the distance. “‘Cause you know, the sky is bursting with galaxies that remind me a lot of the freckles on your shoulders.”

“Oh yeah? I hate those.”

“Are you denying yourself a compliment, Dun?” Tyler repeats Josh’s words from earlier and Josh settles closer to him, straddling him. The atmosphere changes immediately between them.

“If I’m not mistaken, we did discuss that I’m the most pessimistic optimist you’ve ever met, right?” his hand trails from Tyler’s shoulder up his jawline and across his cheekbone. Tyler lets his eyelids flutter.

“Don’t put a ceiling on your dreams buddy,” Tyler says softly. “I think I’m already falling in love with someone who sees galaxies in my eyes and hears music in my heartbeats.”

“Egotistical much?”

“Hmm, maybe hears drumbeats in my heartbeats.”

Josh snorts, his fingers threading through Tyler’s thick hair. “That makes no sense. Maybe something like, ‘your drumbeats are my heartbeats.’”

“I guess we just suck at being romantic.”

“Don’t put a ceiling on your dreams,” Josh says, and then he lowers his lips to Tyler’s, and for a second, the world stops turning. His hands bury in Josh’s tee, his body becomes clay for Josh to mold. He’s a muse, he’s art, he’s everything Tyler could have ever wanted.

Josh deepens the kiss and Tyler can’t breathe but he doesn’t want to come up for air. His leg wraps around Josh’s waist and all he wants is to be pressed up against him, to remove all the layers between them so he can feel Josh’s warmth.

Tyler feels unstoppable. Everything he’s ever been afraid of seems to melt away right then and there. He feels like Josh is willing to help him accomplish everything and anything he wants to do, a feeling that Chris and Nick never gave him. Josh is special. He’s equally as kind and talented and amazing and Tyler never wants him to leave.

Josh’s hand slides under Tyler’s shirt and thumbs at the skin on his hip. He pulls away from the kiss to say, “I’ve always seen galaxies in your eyes, you know. From the start.”

“You can’t quit the band or I’ll poke your eyes out,” Tyler says back.

“We’re gonna sell out the Schott,” and Josh goes back to kissing him right there in the Arizona desert.

-

At the festival the next day, they attract a small crowd of people who have no idea who they are. But after that performance, they do. 

And they want more.

-

Josh’s arm is wrapped around Tyler’s shoulders. They stare into the massive crowd of people cheering for them.

They did it.

“Hey, remember when you said we wouldn’t get here?” Josh whispers. Tyler looks at the sold out arena and feels himself start to cry. It isn’t a new feeling, selling out the Schott. They played a whole tour of sold out arenas. They played Madison Square Garden. They played on SNL and The Tonight Show. They headlined Lollapalooza, Firefly, Life is Beautiful, Bonnaroo, and so many more. Their record went gold. They had two consecutive songs on the radio. They wrote a song for a  _movie._ Give or take, it wasn't a good movie, but still. A  _movie._

People know who they  _ are. _

But after this tour, after revisiting the city that made them who they are, Tyler is feeling extremely emotional. Red confetti sticks to his sweaty arms. Tears run rivers down his face.

“We did it, Ty,” Josh continues. “We didn’t put a ceiling on our dreams.”

“No we didn’t,” Tyler replies, reaching out for the microphone. He pauses to turn back towards Josh. “You know what I’m afraid of?”

“What?” Josh smirks.

“Nothing.” His grip around Josh’s slick shoulders tightens as he raises the microphone to his lips.

“We’re twenty one pilots, and so are you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at pastelxmess on tumblr so we can talk or something.


End file.
